


Lace and Lust

by TheMockingCrows



Series: Fetishistic Fashions [2]
Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Attempts at sexting, Crossdressing, First Time Sex, Frottage, M/M, handjob, mentions of oral sex, thigh highs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingCrows/pseuds/TheMockingCrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave and John finally go public (carefully) in their dresses, and begin to explore their relationship more. When John's father catches wind of it, however, he can't quite wrap his traditionalist mind around the concept of a boy wearing girls clothes and explodes. Can Bro Strider help him see the light? Or will John and Dave have to sneak around forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to: http://archiveofourown.org/works/425106

They fit a little low and a little too snug, red bow in the front and black lace along both narrow hips. The only tell that something didn’t belong there was a lump, pinkish tip resting above the frills of the top. Otherwise, it looked like any girl wearing a set of frilly dark panties, wanting to be extra playful that day. Except it was most definitely not a girl, in this case. It was Dave, standing with his hands on his hips, glaring down at a pile of clothing on the foot of his boyfriend’s bed.

Oh, no, this would not do at all. 

“Dude. Really? This isn’t gonna work, man, you PROMISED.”

“Dave, I know I promised, it’s jus-“

“You promised we’d go to the movies.”

“We still are.”

“You promised we’d go to the mall and troll around the bookstore.”

“We still are, I ju-“

“You also promised we’d go to a café and get some coffee and some lunch.”

“Dave, cut me some slack, we’re still doing all of those things! I just don’t think that I ca-“

“John, the entire basis of today was that you were going to dress up with me. We were going to dress up, and we were going to be fabulous, and we were going to have a fucking ball today and take a –ton- of pictures. That’s literally the entire backbone of our date today, and has been for weeks! Please? We’ve been planning this day for ages, dude..” The blonde was still staring at, but refusing to touch, the outfits John had tossed up in offer. They were as far away from frills and lace as one could possibly go.

There were slacks and vests, a suit, nice jeans and t-shirts, preppy things with starched collars. All decidedly masculine and in dark colors, form fitting. Sure, they’d look good for pictures, and they’d likely make them appear to be quite the fine piece of ass, but this was not what the deal had been.

“I know, Dave, it’s just.. I. Well. Come on, man, someone I know will see me!”

“So? They say anything, I’ll kick their ass hard enough they’ll be tasting stiletto for a week.”

“Oh my God, you’re going to wear stilettos..?” He voice got quiet for a moment, eyes wide, trying to imagine Dave in a pair of red spiked heels, straps around his narrow feet. Maybe with something as casual as a set of jeans, or a short skirt with black leggings.. FOCUS, JOHN. “I know you would, just. Come on, man, my Dad doesn’t know about this yet. I kinda wanted to be the one to tell him, not some random prick in a park.”

“We weren’t going to a park, but now that you mention it, we might be able to get some awesome pictures there.” Ever the photo-op man, Dave grinned at the prospect, fingers curling as though he were already holding the camera. Already imagining having John curl timidly towards a pale barked tree and hike a leg up, flash some flouncy under skirts and tanned thigh. Already imagining sequestering him off behind a bush somewhere to see what else was under those skirts and initiate John into a little kink he’d wanted to develop most of his life.

“Dave? Dave. No.” Yes, John, speak to your puppy of a boyfriend. That’ll teach him to piddle on your parade. “You’re not listening to me. I can’t! Someone will recognize me!” His pleading was turning to a complaining whine, tormented by the idea. Of course he wanted to dress up with Dave, wanted to pull on the dress he’d helped him obtain and enjoy his company. The idea of being recognized, however, taunted for his interests publicly? Possibly word getting back to his father before he could talk to him and let him understand things? No way. Too high of a risk.

“John. You seem to have forgotten the one aspect of proper attire. I am disappointed that you think I’d do a photo shoot for a full outfit, a full look, specifically, without every fucking piece in place.” The blonde made quite a show, sassy in his underwear, narrow foot tapping as he stared down his taller friend standing sheepishly rubbing at his elbows. “Trust me. Nobody will recognize you. Just put on some tunes, and we’ll get dressed and go. Okay?”

“But..”

“No buts. Seriously, John, I can assure you. I just need you to trust me.. please?”

The sass was dropped at the clear look of apprehension on the others face, shaking his head. Silly John, getting intimidated by someone who would rather chew off his own leg than ever put him purposefully into a bad situation. He still looked upset, rubbing his elbows till they were red and angry against his tanned skin, blue eyes narrowed in thought, looking anywhere but forward. That, in itself, was quite the feat of will considering how one member of the room was dressed.

“Hey. Hey, come here.. I’m sorry I got so annoyed, but really, I just need you to –trust- me. You’re going to look adorable, nobody will recognize you. I’ve got this. You’re safe with me, okay..? Come on, let’s just go have a good time together.” The words were spoken softly, soothing as the slim fingers that threaded around his waist to clasp behind his back. Light kisses at his collarbone, trying to maneuver him down lower for easier access, a more direct kiss, light pecks on his cheeks and jaw.

Well, when he put it that way.

“Alright, alright! I give. Just.. Seriously, anything happens, you’re not allowed in my pants for a month.”

“Fair enough.”

“Or in a skirt.”

“WHOA now. What? Time out. Hold the damn phone. Let me put a pause on this shit to call NASA because, Houston, we have a major problem.”

“For a month. Anything happens to me that could have been prevented by not going out in public in the area I live, you’re stuck in jeans and slacks for a month. Even in your own room.” The challenge was on purpose, wanting a definite insurance that, frankly, he didn’t quite feel yet. Something that would let them suffer together in some way instead of just tension and probable guilt. Give them something to look forward to, when the skirts could go back on.

“You drive a hard bargain.. Good thing I’m mighty fuckin’ certain that this’ll be fine,” Dave said as he pulled away. Dropping into an easy crouch, Dave rustled in one of the bags he’d carted over, coming back up with something dark in a strange looking net. With a flick of the wrist and some careful preening, he displayed what the bag had been protecting. It was all ringlet curls and doll accents, short enough to not be gaudy while still pulling off the perfect overall shape. The blackish blue tint indicated that, most likely, it was for John.

“A wig?” John asked. “I’ve never worn a wig before. It’ll look weird!”

“Oh ye of little faith, just let the master work,” Dave cooed as he adjusted some strands, wanting to avoid tangling as he gently set it aside. A piece of what at first he thought to be pantyhose was tossed to John, with the request that he put it on after he got dressed. Well. That was certainly a game changer. Nobody would suspect it was him, if this ended up looking right, after all.

Stooping, John clicked into his music files on his computer, selecting a few volumes and putting it on random, turning up the volume. Electric swing began to pour from the speakers, lightening the previously tense mood, giving them a better background to relax and get ready. Off went the jeans and t-shirt, the blue socks with the hole in the heel that he’d never throw away because Rose made them for him one year and he’s too lazy to repair them.

It was show time.

Dave had pulled on a slip, a garter belt for future stockings and his favorite black crinoline petticoat, puffy as a tutu once it hung down his hips, giving him a more noticeable shape than willowy and straight. It was the best thing to dance in. As John tugged down his boxers, Dave had already begun to move around, building up a natural high for their afternoon, swinging his hips and swaying his arms. It was, admittedly, an attractive sight, platinum hair wisping in the kicked up breeze as he spun and bounced, pink in the face. Nobody else ever got to see him like this, reserved, stoic. John was apparently, aside from Dave’s brother, the only person who knew how very young he was at heart.

In short order the brunette was similarly outfitted in proper underclothes, giving a spin as the track changed, sneaking a peek in his mirror to see the motion of the skirt stopping to bunch up on itself. Dave, being more practiced, was able to hook up the tights for him, helping him roll the white bits up to his thighs. Dave was also more practiced in making him absolutely stew in sexual frustration, making certain to stroke at his inner leg or the front of his groin with every pass of nimble fingers, using nothing more than ‘Oops’ as an excuse.

The dress itself, John though, was the absolute best part of everything. It was royal blue, drawn at the front like a curtain spreading to the back, tiered with two rows of white and blue ruffles in the front. Paler blue laces crossed his stomach and chest, ending at a dainty bow beneath a frilled collar. With the crinoline in place, it ruffled up high to his thighs, held aloft by the soft layers beneath. He found that, while the sweet Lolita was nice, he preferred more vibrant colors. This dress, for instance, matched his eyes to the exact shade. John hoped to find fabric in this shade someday to make bedding or something with.

Dave was, as usual, easily dressing himself in his favored color scheme. Red, black, and white always seemed to work best on him, be it elegant or gothic styles. Anything reflecting the card suits, really. His outfit had a more fitted waist, requiring a simple corset to be worn underneath it to accentuate his hips, not drawn very tight. A proper corset won’t give you discomfort if it’s worn the way it’s intended, such as for waist training. 

The black topmost layer guarded deep red levels beneath, layered into three tiers up front, and separated by black ruffles. A layer of white ruffle just below his collarbones would match, most likely, a headband of sorts that he’d wear. It didn’t seem to have more than just the button sleeves, though knowing Dave and his brother, he’d found a way to accessorize it further with custom parts.

He drew the line at heavier makeup a few times, before finally reaching a halfway point with Dave. False eyelashes, eye makeup, blush and lipstick for the photo shoot. His skills with Photoshop could handle other problems that might arise, placing the photographs into a lovely middle ground of bisque doll and model within a few hours of filtering and adjustment. Makeup done with much squirming and complaining from John, he tugged the wig cap into place.

Or, at least, tried to. A few fuddled attempts and Dave was sighing, papping his hands away so he could work, pinning it into place for him. The wig itself felt.. odd. It was a good quality one, so there was none of that odd plastic crinkle of shifting costume shop hair follicles. It was warm and heavy on his head, weighing it down with the delicate curls and waves that Dave was lovingly tending to. Once pinned, sprayed with a fine mist of hairspray to keep the final shape in place, he stepped back to get a good look, framing his fingers like a camera lens.

He smirked.

“YUP. I’m a genius, perfection. Absolutely lovely, you’re a vision. I deserve a medal for being awesome, so it says in the heavens, so shall it be DONE, Dave Strider you rock. Come on, babe, work it a bit.”

A quick look in the mirror verified that, yes, it did look amazing. He looked like a toy. The idea of putting two lines aside his mouth to look like a marionette surfaced, maybe the two of them matching hand in hand, at least for a few shots. Maybe he’d mention it another time, or when they got back to his room. John had a feeling pictures like that would look much better in his bedroom, where they could slump just so.

Also where, knowing their track record since starting to date a month and a half prior, it would be able to escalate without worry. Dressing up always made them lower their inhibitions, feeling better about themselves. About everything, really. They felt attractive and amazing and the world was a special shade of blue meant just for the two of them, and they’d press close and graze their hands along each other, and.. well. Generally speaking, that was their undoing. 

Dave himself, apparently, was not going to be joining John with the wig option, preening his hair just so, precisely laying strands over top his shades to accentuate them. He was fairly androgynous naturally, and quite self-satisfied about dressing up in public, so there was nothing for him to hide. His stance had changed to a more confident one, clasping the upper edge of the mirror with a hand to balance as he leaned forward and applied a few dabs of a dark red lipstick. A set of matching, detached sleeves had been pulled on already, secured into place just above his elbows to drape down to his wrist. The white accent was mimicked with a headband and matching white shoes. He was lovely and delicate, dangerous and all too easy to stare at.

Especially when he bent forward like that and stuck out his neck. Good lord, look at the curve of his shoulder, the splashes of light freckl-

No, you knock that off right the fuck now, John, or you’ll never make it out of the house. Let alone out of your bedroom. He could just see the picture they’d make, wig snatched off, lipstick stuck everywhere, panties down around those slim ankles as John lifted him against a wall and ground close. Dark marks on his neck from tasting him, biting him, marking him..

Whoa, okay, off topic there, focus. Focus. Will Egbert Jr. away, for the love of fuck, PLEASE go DOWN.

“You okay, dude?”

Fuck.

“Yeah, Dave, I’m alright, just..”

“Just what.. excited?” The knowing grin, setting his hand onto his own lower back in a pose, rolling his back and hips in a wave to catch his attention. As if he didn’t already have it. At John’s pained whine, hands slipping to cross on the front of his skirt, Dave chuckled and stopped his torment. “Alright, alright. Come on. Put on your shoes and let me put your wallet in my bag. I think we’re ready to go now.”

Go now meant walk outside quickly and get to Dave’s truck, roll down the windows a bit to avoid cooking, and back out fast enough to make John regret having oatmeal for breakfast. Tension clawed at him already. Would the neighbors know? Had they seen? Would he be able to write it off as just a prank, or a phase, when it was so lovingly detailed to him?

…would they think he was pretty? What if. What if they liked it? Thought it looked good on him? 

Fat chance. Not something he wanted to find out right now, thanks, if ever. His neighbors were older, a bit closed minded, verging on homophobic judging from some of the pointed stares and glares he got whenever he gave Dave a peck outside or they held hands. 

The movie was more of a production than actually something shocking and new. They were stared at and approached for pictures in the lobby, nobody the wiser to who they were or where they were from. That, or in the know and not caring in the slightest, being closer to a large city. Their execution was tasteful and, dare he say it? Elegant to behold, each grasping their skirts and moving in unison to show off the best parts, John going so far as to kneel down and let a very small girl touch the puffed curls on his head, grinning broadly when she said it was better than the Disney princesses.

The best part was, most definitely, lurking in the very back of the theater feeding each other popcorn. They’d both seen the movie before, had seen clips online as well, knew the pauses in the conversations and the rises in the background music. They held hands through the entire first half, eating their snacks and talking in quiet voices, joking, comparing what was on the screen to what they’d found out about it online. 

There was the character who had broken his hand before shooting began, so they had to write him in wearing a brace and suffering from carpal tunnel. There was the man who was allergic to his makeup, unable to play the main leading monster, delegated to sidekick. The woman who, every time she showed up on screen, made both of them shiver with amazement with how passionately she delivered her lines. How she made them give a shit about the subject, despite knowing it all by heart already. 

Through the second half, things got complicated. The arm rest had gone up then, empty popcorn and soda set aside on the floor to be tossed out when they left, spare kernels littering the sticky floor. Dave tucked his legs up, folding them as graceful as a ballerina, laying on his back to spread out across John’s lap. They had privacy, and precisely forty five minutes until the credits rolled. 

Fifteen minutes of touching each other’s faces and smiling stupidly, twining their fingers to rub the whorls of their fingertips together. Fifteen minutes of subtle stroking along each other’s torsos, fingers pressing into the fabric to tease the skin there. Re-learning the muscle patterns, the soft skin, the heat. Fifteen minutes of being absolutely connected at the face, writhing, trying not to make a scene. 

Trying not to make a mess of themselves.

Failing, clutching at each other as the credits rolled, legs squirming restlessly. They needed privacy. They needed a closet, a bathroom, an empty hallway, ANYTHING. The pressure was painful at this point, needing relief, nipping at one another’s lips, tempted to leave hickeys on the displayed necks.

The only thing that prevented them from throwing themselves to the floor and touching the aching flesh that begged to be sated was the lights coming up, illuminating the seating area. Yeah, no, best knock that off, huh? 

“Ah.. Hey,” John coughed. “How about we go ahead and get that lunch, huh? I’d kill for a Panini right now.”

Dave took his time sitting up, standing and dusting himself off to avoid residue, clinging bits of food or fluff. All those fun little things that public places where children were allowed to set food with unguarded food tended to attract. 

“Sure, babe, let’s kick it. I think I’ll get my books another time.. I’d rather go get some lunch and coffee, then head out to get some dessert.”

Fuck, he loved it when Dave promised things like that, eyes lidded as he donned his shades, a knowing grin on those painted lips. A simple word, a twist of his hand, a mere beckon of his fingers and John would have bent over backwards when he promised things that way. Give him the moon in a brown paper bag.

They settled on an indoor place for lunch, not wanting to be exposed to the weather too long. They had enough melting for the afternoon, thanks. John settled on an odd combo for his sandwich, turkey and rosemary, feta cheese and honey to all be washed down with a tall glass of iced tea. Dave got a club sandwich, thankful they hadn’t stacked the parts too high, not wanting to drip sauce on his lap. A window seat and barstools allowed them the sunlight and view without the inconvenience, continuing their quiet conversations.

Till inspiration struck, at least.

Dave paused in his eating, dabbing at his lips with his hand as he tipped down and snatched up his bag, rummaging around until he pulled out his camera. Removing the protective cap, he set about putting it into working order, hopping off his stool.

“No, no, hold that angle for a minute. There, with your arm up. Perfect. Beautiful. Just.. Yeah, look at me. Chin up. Smile a little.”

John was, by now, used to this. The directions were simple to follow, turning this way and that in his chair for Dave to scurry and take pictures, adjust folds of lace or strands of hair, get the light just right behind him.

“Perfect, gorgeous, yes. Yes, good. Just like an angel, fuck, just hold that one right there..”

“Why don’t you both hold it and I’ll take the pictures?”

John startled and jerked his chin up to look behind Dave a tall man who’d taken it upon himself to wander over. He seemed rather normal, well groomed, cocky as the day was long. At oldest, he’d have guessed he was in his late twenties. Far too old to be offering to take pictures of people who looked like teenaged girls he randomly happened upon in a restaurant. Way bad context there, dude. 

Dave turned around, camera still in hand, to size him up. He was taller than the blonde by a good six inches, even with the heels, stepping too close, a little too interested.

“Nah, thanks. This camera is my baby and so is the model, so sorry.” At least he was polite about it, ignoring him as he turned to face John once more, raising a hand to gesture at the glass of tea. The sun looked amazing through it, reflecting the scant bits of light into a jewel-like reddish brown.

He needed to stop.

“Hey, bitch, don’t ignore me.”

“Dude, fuck off. Not interested. Never will be now. Beat it, douche.”

John had set the glass down now, reaching for Dave’s bag. They’d paid up front at the register when they got the food, after all. If a hasty exit was needed, they’d take it. He wanted no drama, no problems, no upset. Last thing he needed was to have to go to a fucking police station in a dress for a lineup or something.

John was, obviously, such an optimist when it came to things like this.

When Dave continued to ignore him, John standing up to try explaining that they should just leave, the man crossed the line. He grabbed hold of Dave’s upper arm hard enough to leave a bruise, yanking him to turn around, getting up in his face.

“I said don’t ignore me, you fuckin’ gussied up little who-“

That was as much as he got out before his world erupted into painful red, head jerking to the side from the impact of a tanned fist to the cheek. It wouldn’t be enough to do much damage beyond a headache, some bruising. Maybe a black eye if he hit high enough. Mangrit was dangerous when used improperly, after all, and he just wanted the guy to let Dave go before it escalated dangerously. 

Okay, maybe that was going too far. Fuck. FUCK. Making a strangled, panicked sound in the back of his throat, John snatched Dave by the hand and took off for the door, his bag beating against his legs as he ran. Running in heels should be an Olympic sport, by most standards. A man running in heels when he’s only recently learned how to handle them properly? Get this man an award.

“DUDE, you really let that dick have it, didn’t you!” The blonde didn’t seem to be too bothered by this turn of events, grabbing his bag from his boyfriend to dig out the keys for his truck. Both of them piled in, hauling ass out of the parking lot as the creep ran out screaming that they had no right, that they shouldn’t dress that way if they didn’t want the advances. Screaming for them to come back so he could call the cops as Dave flipped him off in the rearview mirror, chuckling. 

While a Strider might be used to something similar to this happening, Egbert’s were not that used to it. Not at all. John looked close to a panic attack, rubbing at his hand, staring wide eyed out the window as they hauled ass back to John’s house in silence. John from terror, Dave from not wanting to freak the guy out any more than he already was.

It all came out when they were back in his room though.

“Oh my GOD why did I do that?! That was totally illegal, holy fuck, just. Oh my GOD.” John was frantic, kicking his heels into the corner of his room, reaching up to claw off his wig, the wig cap. Fingers curled into his hair to mess it up to its usual unruly state, tugging at it in his fretting. “He called the police or the people there did, and they’ll call my dad, and he’ll know, and oh my GOD!”

“John, chill. Just take deep breaths, okay? In and out, hold five, out ten, yadda yadda inner peace. Just breathe for me, alright? Air is your friend, dude, don’t block it out.” Dave shooshed at him, stepping out of his own heels and reaching up to settle his arms onto his broader shoulders, trying to soothe him. “You were alright. It was a bit of a bad decision, yeah, but the guy was threatening me. If I was anyone else, I might have been pissing myself terrified. That guy crossed a line, and you reacted the first way that came to mind. You made him fucking stop.”

“But DAVE!”

“Don’t fuckin’ ‘but Dave’ me, dude. You were alright. If I was alone, I get the feeling he’d have tried something worse, okay? Maybe now he’ll think twice being leading with his cock.” As he spoke he’d begun to nuzzle at his chest, toying with strands of his hair from the back of his neck. “Come on.. It’s over. We’re back here safe and sound in your room, with the house to ourselves. Don’t let one waste of space ruin your entire day.. Remember the movies? That was fun, right?”

“..Yeah. Yeah, it was fun. Even though we already knew every part.”

“How about when I almost fell off the seats because you grabbed my ass?”

“You started that, not me, man. You don’t just slide your hand up a man’s skirt in public and think you’ll get away totally free. That’s just not done.” Blue eyes grew more serious now that he’d stopped hiccup breathing, started paying closer attention to what Dave was actually doing. 

In this case, he was re-enacting what had happened in the theaters back row, hands slipping from his shoulders down towards his waist, curving around the sides to go down his thighs to the bottom of the skirt. Grin widening, he slipped his fingers upwards, underneath the soft fabric, rubbing at his thighs, the clip that held up the tights.

“Oh, really? Why not?”

“B-because.. Because it’s not. You don’t get away totally free, especially when you get caught doing it. There’s always going to be something that happens as a result. Namely, you almost busting your gorgeous ass on the floor.”

“Oh? Something happens as a result, huh?”

“Yeah.” Oh, God, he was being baited so hard. It was an easy tell, too, he knew exactly how it was happening. Exactly what Dave was doing to make it happen. Playing right into his hands was somehow the most gratifying thing in the world, since he didn’t have to guess what his motives were. There was nothing fuddled, for example, about feeling himself getting slowly pushed back towards his bed by a blonde who had not lost his earlier appetite for dessert. 

“Mind explaining to me in more detail?” The pushing was harder now, trying to make him go back, two gangly teenaged boys half wrestling as they stood in the middle of his room. “Wouldn’t wanna go breaking some huge rule and bounce a check my ass can’t cash.”

“You being suggestive on purpose, or is that just a total coincidence?”

“I’m a Strider.”

“That’s not a reason!”

“I know, it’s a cool sounding excuse though, huh.”

“Well,” John said, finally beginning to push back with more force, changing the direction. Bed? Nope, sorry Dave, not happening. They were on a one way trip towards his door, surging forwards till the pale boy was thoroughly pressed against it, pushing at his shoulders. “You could say that the automatic reaction would be total derailment of your plans.”

“And if this was the plan?”

“If you say ‘to give you a boner’, Dave, I will punch you so hard in the dick your grandmother would feel it.”

“I’m not gonna! Though, since you mentioned it..”

“Dave.”

He was making it hard to focus, since apparently he quite enjoyed being pinned, beginning to roll his hips suggestively forwards to rustle their skirts together. Lately Dave was the more aggressive one, usually leading them on, luring John into certain places he wanted to try. They hadn’t actually had penetrative sex yet, though they’d damn well gotten close with some of these latest sessions. 

The closest they’d come had been half a week prior, both stripped down in Dave’s bed, rolling around like a couple of dogs in heat. Dave had lifted his legs to adjust the cradle of John’s hips and he’d slipped, prodding him sharply. Then.. sort of drawing back and prodding at him again, testing the waters. They’d been panting open mouthed, staring each other down with flushed faces as he’d moved. Had begun to moan in synch when he reached a hand down to guide himself, applying more pressure, rutting against him.

They’d barely pulled apart from eachother to begin a frantic search for a condom and some lubricant when his brother had come home, slamming the front door loud enough to make them both yelp. That had been the end of their fumblings, though apparently the feeling was still quite mutual to want to explore further. Quite apparent indeed if that leg lifting towards his hip was indeed Dave’s, the fingers curling up into his hair to tug him down were his as well. 

John bent down, growling quietly in the back of his throat as he did so, seeking to hook behind Dave’s knees and lift him up. His back would brace against the wall, legs spreading to accommodate him, forming a perfect counter balance to keep him safe. Not that the brunette would ever let him fall, if he had anything to say about it. 

Though, if he kept gyrating like that, he very well may.

For a time it was nothing but the rustling of fabric from the crinolines being shoved against each other, legs seeking hips, hands tugging at hair and stockings. John was keeping himself quite clothed right now, thank you, and Dave was just going to have to deal with it. It being the rhythmic rutting they’d begun against one another, solid lumps hidden under the layers of cloth seeking its mate out, wanting to stimulate it.

“For the love of FUCK, can we just go to the bed now?” Dave was flushed in the face, panting, sunglasses skewed from where they’d been busy smashing their faces together in what was turning out to be a massive make-out session. Up against a wall. With his boyfriend working on removing his panting while refusing to let him return the favor.

“Not yet.”

“Why not?!”

Bitching wasn’t important now. Nothing was in the haze of motion that followed. John slowly brought him down the door to the floor, scooting back till he was stretching out on it, lowering to kiss at his neck and collarbones. His grip behind his knees remained, spreading them with his hands as he dipped further downward, ducking up beneath the tent of crinkled fabric to lay his mouth over the head of Dave’s dick, giving it a solid suck.

It wasn’t poetic, or anything amazing, the two of them writhing on the floor, hair mussed. Dave was writhing, moaning, trying to buck his hips upwards towards the hidden shape of John’s face. John was still learning, working hard to avoid his teeth doing any damage, sticking for the most part to teasing along Dave’s length, playing with the head. Massaging his testicles as he licked the slit atop the crown, swiping up the beading liquid. 

He was already in pain himself, the panties straining, threatening to break under the strain he was putting on the front. Already, he knew he’d soaked them with precome, hips moving forward eagerly. Anticipating. A questing hand, dampened with spit, was met receptively. Fiercely receptively actually, once the initial surprise had rubbed off, pale flesh pushing back against his hand to let him in. 

When Dave finally begged for him to stop, not wanting to come yet, wanting to last through the next step of their evening, they began to race. Off went the delicate dresses and attached sleeves, tripping over themselves to get naked and situated. John couldn’t figure out his garter belt so he just left it, shimmying the damn panties off and throwing them over his shoulder in a way. Dave, more practiced, had left his own on intentionally, yanking open his boyfriend’s bedside table to root around for his recently purchased lube and condom.

Boyscouts motto? Always prepared indeed, given the magnum in its foil wrapper. 

Dave knew what he wanted, how fast he wanted it, how badly. The bit of fingering on the floor had been a grand example of how much lube he wanted for this rodeo, and a great incentive to continue ASAP while he was still turned on and throbbing. He gauged, given the condom was lubed as well, a bit more than he used with his vibrator at home. Spreading his legs, he squeezed some out onto his fingers, lowering his hand to set it to work. 

John was faced with pulling on the condom, adjusting it to fit correctly, panting steadily with his pulse in his ears. Every time he almost got it perfectly in place, he’d hear shuffling or a moan and get distracted by a lovely, pale little thing writhing in ecstasy on his bed. 

Without him.

Oh, that would just not do at all. Not in the slightest. 

The material of the tights scratched at his skin as he crawled over the mattress finally, settling back between Dave’s legs, wanting to kiss him. Needing to kiss him. Needing to be close to that warm body that had been driving him insane for the last few hours. The last few days. The last few years, since they’d first fucking met online. All of it was leading towards this one moment. 

Fingers tangled in sheets, the discomfort and fumblings of young romance, sharp elbows and narrow hips. Chests heaving to regain air that was quick to be lost again, mouths connected through most of it despite the bag angle. Mouths slipping as they finally buried their faces into each other’s necks, groaning, cursing, moaning. Going with the flow as it threatened to engulf the both of them.

Squeaks of the bed, headboard gently thumping against the wall once a motion was started, the slow thud becoming a steady whack once they began to fall into themselves more. Over eager, they lost the beat a few times, messing up, starting again. Dave clawed John’s back with his nails whenever he started moving at a good angle, John biting down on that creamy neck he’d been wanting a taste of all day. 

It had all started at 10pm on a Monday night some weeks prior, two teenaged boys and some Lolita dresses, frotting like the cops would break down their door at any moment. It ended at about 4pm on a Friday afternoon, the same two teenagers sprawled out on a full sized mattress, lips bruised, minds blown. Dave had bite marks on his neck and bruises on his hips from his lover, a faint bruise on his upper arm from a man who’d never even get to see something like this spectacle. John was stoned on bliss, blue eyes shut loosely despite the sting on his back, a certain Striders nails having become quite intimate with him as they’d moved together. 

They needed to clean up the room.

They needed to remove the thigh highs somehow, and go shower.

They needed to…

Sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When traditionalist James Egbert finds out about John's secretive penchant for cross dressing, will their family be able to handle the strain? Will Bro Strider be able to shed some light on the problem, or just complicate matters even further?

Finding his son post-coitus really shouldn’t have upset him, given that John was of the age where hormones had even begun to sink their tendrils into himself when he had been young.  It was just a fact of life by this point, really, that teenaged boys would be teenaged boys, and he could only hope that all his talks about safe sex were counting for something. Knowing John though, it surely had. He knew how to respect people, and would take care not to get someone pregnant or risk getting himself sick.

He was so proud of his son for growing up to be an upstanding gentleman over the years. Just like his old man.

The thing that had upset him so about finding his son currently, was both who it was with, and how they were found. Now, the sneaking suspicion that the alluring blonde was dating his son had been alive for quite some time, and always vehemently denied. He had been in close contact with John since he was younger, traded gifts at birthdays and Christmas celebrations, spent entire summers coiled together like snakes as they rough housed and relaxed. It only made sense in his mind that eventually the boys would get curious, maybe experiment. The fact they were this close, while upsetting for any parent to see firsthand, was comforting. At least it wasn’t some random stranger off the street.

Yet, the clothing.. There were dresses in the room, strewn about, and panties on the bed despite there being no females present that he could see. Any hopes that the feminine guests had merely vacated were thrown to the wind when he realized that the two forms nestled together on the bed were both wearing garter belts and stockings.  
His son. In stockings. Cross dressing. John, apparently, was wearing stockings and a dress and likely panties at some point during the day. Had ended up having… sexual relations with his friend while they were both dressed like that.

His stomach hurt, and his blood went ice cold.

Now, James was what he liked to think a very forward thinking man. He didn’t care that his son apparently had a boyfriend, and in fact would have made a cake to welcome Dave further into the family. “Would have” being the operative words. The dresses, the stockings? It had changed that quite a lot, in his opinion. This was no way for an upstanding gentleman to behave, and he was damn certain that John hadn’t picked up the habit on his own.

The Strider family had some.. admittedly, strange hobbies. But, cross dressing? Surely John hadn’t gotten into this on his own. The last time he’d even been remotely interested in anything like that, he’d been a very young child who didn’t know better. Didn’t know that it was, frankly, wrong. Boys wear boy clothes, girls wear girl clothes. Boys don’t wear dresses. He was just happy that at the time, John had borne him no ill will for forcing the change on him by removing the old articles of his mother’s clothing from his dress up box. He just picked up the fedora and went on with his life like the little gentleman he was.

This was certainly Dave’s influence. It had to be. John would never come up with something like this on his own from out of the blue. This was not acceptable, not in his house. As much as it pained him.. someone had to set the example in this house. He cleared his throat sharply, opening the door wide.

“David? I believe it’s time you left.”

Two groggy teenagers opened their eyes at the sound, stoned on endorphins, happy. It was only when four eyes locked onto a disapproving form standing stoic in the doorway that they panicked. Both boys clutched each other automatically, John rolling slightly to the side, covering the blonde like a shield. It was his Dad, after all, he’d seen him a thousand times growing up. He’d never seen Dave naked.

John planned to keep it that way.

“Dad, it’s not what it looks like.”

Oh, that was a good one.

“Johnathan, what is it supposed to look like, then? Because from here it would appear that aside from a normal bout of teenaged hormones, you’ve.. well. Look at you!” At a loss for words, he gestured with his hands, eyebrows drawn. He looked nervous, tense. Angry because of it, of his lack of control over the situation. “It’s one thing to fool around, I know you’d be safe and that’s not much of my business, but.. But -that-. That.. That cross dressing! You’ve no business being in women’s clothes, John, get those OFF. David, I really believe it’s time you left.”

“Dad, it’s not Dave’s fault, he didn’t do anything! I wa-“

“Don’t argue with me. I want you to take that garbage off and put on your jeans like a sensible boy, and go downstairs. We need to have a talk. David, as much as I care for you, I’d like to request you not stop by for a few days.” He needed to repair this before it got too far out of hand. This wasn’t right. Men didn’t do this.

Where had he gone wrong? Was it because John didn’t have a mother around to watch over him as well, offer a better idea of gender roles? Was he just going through a phase? He was certain he’d never gone through a phase like that at John’s age, yet here was Dave and John both doing this at the same time. Oh, lord, that brought up whole other thoughts!

The Strider family was a wild bunch, given the elders jobs and websites. He was well known for his involvement in most things adult, many things sexual. What if this was a new form of sexual deviancy being brought upon his son by his (relatively) delinquent boyfriend? What if, perish the thought, John was being manipulated and led down the wrong path?! What if-

No.

No, not that path. He knew enough about Dave that he would never hurt John, or put him at risk. They were a devoted sort to each other, despite being quite non-traditional.

At the look on Jame’s face, Dave sprung into motion, slipping away from John with a wince, pulling on a set of jeans and a t-shirt of John’s that he found nearby. Had to be his sons from the way it hung on his body. John took a bit longer, watching the blonde gather his things before doing much more than tug his boxers on, silent till he left. He’d text him later, or pester him online to talk about their encounter as well as the bitter ending . When it was just he and his father, John exploded, catching James off guard.

“Dad, what the Hell was that all about?! This isn’t fair! We were careful, and it’s none of your business!”

“John, I’m not having this conversation here, and not like this. Get dressed and go downstairs, and we can ta-“

“No! We can have this conversation right here!” He was obstinate with his hands on his hips, face flaming red, angry. This was not a side of his son that he knew. “What was so upsetting? It’s clothes, alright? Clothes. They don’t hurt anyone, and if I want to wear them, I’m going to!”

“Not in my home, now take them OFF,” James said, eye twitching. He couldn’t lose control of the situation, drawing his shoulders back and raising his chin sternly, trying to put on his best angry face. While obviously still enraged, it made John back down enough to remove the stockings and unhitch the garter belt, shoulders up by his ears. “I’m not sure what made you think that was a good idea, but I’ve a mind -who- may have. John, while I respect your choices and David is a fine young man, I’m not so certain he’s the best influence on you.”

John snorted and mumbled something beneath his breath, still turned away while he tugged on pants.

“I’m sorry, would you mind speaking up? I’ve had just about enough of this attitude today, young man.”

“I said, Dave didn’t teach me about that. He was doing it on his own.. and so was I.”

“….For how long. How long have you been doing this?”

“Not for long, but I’ve wanted to for years. I’d wanted to get things and try them on, and wear them! Just.. I knew you wouldn’t understand, so I didn’t.”

“Understand..? Understand?! What am I supposed to understand about this?! John, this is a sexual deviancy! No son of mine is going to be flouncing around wearing something like that! It’s simply not done! Why, your Nana would be rolling in her grave if she knew about this!”

“You don’t understand at all, it’s not just about that! I just like wearing it, okay?! It makes me feel pretty!” Wide eyed, John slapped a hand over his mouth in an effort to shut himself up. Oh, God, he’d said the worst possible thing. Hello, can of worms, nice to see you. My name is John, and I’ll be opening you today for my father.

He was going to regret this later, James just felt it in his bones. Knew it was going to be a fact. Already he felt the words coming out, too tense to fight them down like usual. Giving in to his temper instead of controlling it like the adult he was. Everyone was human.. but he would regret it.

“That’s. It. Johnathan Egbert, you are grounded for the next two weeks. I want all of this.. this.. THIS sort of thing to be put into a garbage bag. We’ll be donating it on the first of the month to some girl who would get use from it.” Over the beginning rage and whining, he continued to speak. “No computer except for school work, no cellphone. You will be tidying up your room, and taking up all your chores before bed each day. No more putting them off to the weekend, considering you’ll have plenty of spare time now.”

“But-!”

“No. Move. Chop chop, get to it. You’ve got a room to clean and some dishes with your name written on them.” That would be the end of the discussion, a finger solidly pointed towards his shirts then out the door to point him in the right direction. When John slunk out, red faced and fighting off watering eyes from getting too upset, James finally sagged with relief.

Ahh.. there it was. The burning sting of regret. It was intense, bowling him over enough to make him sit on the bottom of John’s mattress and rub at his face. He felt old. He felt tired.. The urge to apologize, to go hug his son, was overwhelming yet he knew he had to stay firm on this. There was no room for error now, especially when he had to play the authority figure. It was for his own good, really. Boys don’t wear dresses.. He wouldn’t have a normal life if he did this. Being gay was one thing, he was okay with that considering it wasn’t that big of a deal. It changed nothing, who he loved. But how he dressed..? That was a bit much for him.

Maybe he could speak to the elder Strider about this, check out John’s story. Try to figure out what to do next with this, maybe how to curb it. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he never would have expected Dave to be into something like this.. How did Mr. Strider deal with it personally?

James made up his mind to pay him a visit within the next few days.

.. after making a few days’ worth of John’s favorite foods as a silent apology for the grounding.

\--------

 

[ectoBiologist has begun pestering turntechGodhead]

[EB]: hey, dave, are you there?

[TG]: didnt expect to see you online

[TG]: arent you like grounded still

[EB]: ehehe, yeah. i’m kind of doing homework on the side. i don’t think dad even knows you can change the logo on things. i just made it look like another internet window instead, so we could talk.

[TG]: my little boy is all grown up

[TG]: using basic computer skills and everything

[TG]: someone get me a tissue for my manly tears of pride

[EB]: dave, come on! i wanted to talk. …you know. about what happened?

[TG]: about getting busted by your dad or the amazing sex because im kind of amenable only to conversations involving one of those things right now

[EB]: focus. you know what I mean already! i wanted to apologize for my dad. really, you know he’s not a bad guy. he’s just.. kinda stuck in the past, i guess. at least on certain things. you know?

[TG]: nah i know john your dads cool

[TG]: a lot of people still find that kind of thing weird

[TG]: I don’t hold it against him or anything

 

Well, that was one plus side. John flipped screens for a moment to actually do a few questions worth of homework while he sat there, not wanting to have to do it later or explain why it suddenly took forever. To be convincing, you had to avoid being an idiot.

Now there was only one other topic to breach.

 

[EB]: you know, i couldn’t really get all that off my mind. from before dad came and freaked out, i mean. you were really a sight to see.

[TG]: heh

[TG]: likewise eggs

[TG]: bro always said my first time wouldnt likely be too good

[TG]: id like to use that as evidence for the court to the contrary

 

John’s face felt warm at the memory, shifting in his seat, trying to ignore the growing arousal. Just remembering was enough to make him wild, and he’d done nothing but remember it for the last week. He wanted this grounding to be over. Wanted to hold Dave, and kiss him, run his hands along his sides. He saw him at school, yes, but briefly. Always on a rush, a quick peck on the lips before they could run to avoid being late, not wanting to separate.

Maybe he could just..

 

[EB]: hey, i was thinking of going to the library soon. you wanna come too?

[TG]: library

[TG]: me at a library

[TG]: john i think you need your head examined or something because those two things do not add up correctly its like saying 2+2= garlic or something

[EB]: well you can’t blame me for asking! i was just thinking about how close to the movie theater the library is, and how i’ve got a few bucks left. you know. enough for bus fare and a ticket. maybe two sodas and a bucket of popcorn.

[TG]: two

[EB]: yup!

[TG]: hmmn

[TG]: that does sound kinda good if we hit an afternoon at the library and kind of accidentally ran into each other at the movie theater

[TG]: gotta be careful though

[TG]: if I see you odds are ill be overwhelmed with the need to make out with you

[TG]: its like this awesome disease

[TG]: see my boyfriend and i need to mack on him to make up for last time

 

The redness and the discomfort were intensifying now, and it was all Dave’s fault. Making him think about some of the things they could do when they were alone.. Oh, God, his dad would kill him if he knew. Yet, with how he was feeling right now, reckless and in love? John was pretty sure he could handle it.

 

[EB]: let me just finish up this homework for real, and i’ll go grab my wallet and backpack. want to maybe see that new scary one that came out?

[TG]: john let me be blunt here

[TG]: we could be watching mitt romney making out with a beached whale in 3d and id only be staring at you in the back row

[TG]: though something scary and loud would make damn sure that nobody would be paying attention to us

[TG]: so sign me up for the horror

[EB]: hah! don’t worry, i’ll keep you safe and sound on my lap then.

[TG]: i could care less about being safe on your lap

[TG]: id much rather have you trying to get up my skirt

 

Was he serious? Or was he just trying to joke around? …Oh man, was he actually doing a sexting kind of thing? Was that seriously what was happening? Biology was seriously starting to lose its appeal on the other window, the lesson heating up on Pesterchum.

 

[EB]: oh? really? or are you just teasing me. which skirt are we talking about?

[TG]: the black one with the red underskirt you like

[TG]: maybe those thigh high socks from sock dreams you liked so much on me

[TG]: get my yellow brick road on in the stripes and heels

 

Oh, fuck, he knew exactly what he liked to hear. Those socks were irresistible once they were pulled up those stark white thighs, soft, perfectly folded. John was dying for summer to show up so he could try coercing the blonde into a set of cutoff shorts with them. Wanted to see something close fitting and high cut on him so they could be thoroughly enjoyed.

Wanted to help him pull them on and off.

Wanted a pair of his own but they were expensive right now and his Dad would have an aneurysm or something, but holy shit they were cute. Saying that half their stock was on his wish list was not very far to stretch ones imagination, and Dave knew it quite well.

 

[EB]: really now? so what, i’ll be sneaking a date with a gothic version of dorothy?

[TG]: youll be sneaking a date with the best witch killer in the west babe

[TG]: might have to teach you a few things in the bathroom if we get the time

[TG]: bring an open mind with that popcorn

 

This was going to be a long day.

\--------

The Strider home was tidy for once, smuppets stacked into a pile near the couch beside a pile of assorted fabrics in bright colors, sewing and crafting supplies, shipping boxes lined up near the wall. Bro had managed to get several orders out, and film two short features as well in his spare time, adding up to quite the productive day. Add in hemming a few things of Dave’s that had finally arrived via TaoBao, and speaking with Egbert? This was a full day.

This was a conversation he wasn’t used to having, however. The gentleman who sat on the couch to his left was staring speechlessly at the needle and thread as he deftly worked, stitches nearly invisible, moving things into the size and shape Dave would need it to be in with his measurements. Simple enough, really, it just took that extra bit of care. Totally worth it when the discounts were added in compared to buying straight from the shops.

“I.. uh. I was unaware that you took in sewing projects aside from your profession. A side job?”

Oh man, was he green. It was obvious he knew nothing about how any of this shit worked, was plain as ever on his face. Bro grinned to himself as he tied a knot, snipping the thread close and dusting the fabric flat before holding it up.

“Nah. I admit, I do sell some of this shit on forums when he gets tired of it, but for the most part? This is my brothers.”

“I.. I actually wanted to speak about that.” Oh boy, here it comes. “While I’m glad you see no problem with your brother behaving such a way, I.. I’m not so certain I want John to be following suit.”

Deft fingers were tying another knot in the thread to work on the sleeves, too wide for Dave’s skinny frame.

“Can I ask why?” A simple question, but it held a lot of weight behind it. If he could get inside this mans head, he might be able to see what the big deal was. After all, this unassuming gentleman was the reason his brother came home almost in tears in a borrowed t-shirt, alternately wanting to talk to him about having had sex for the first time and what to do in the future, and wanting to stop dressing how he liked out of fear for his boyfriend.

If he dressed up, there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to see John. Unlikely, considering they were both sneaky bastards and Bro himself would have helped arrange one thing or another, but he just had to know. What was so wrong with the guy that he’d flip his shit because his son wore a skirt?

“Well. Boys don’t wear dresses, for one. They wear pants and shirts. Suits and ties. I want John to grow up into a proper gentleman, get married, maybe have a family. If he ends up staying with David for all of that, then more power to them. But.. there’s just something wrong about what he’s doing. Unsavory. I doubt he’d get anything but negative attention for behaving such a way.”

“Is he hurting someone personally by dressing up? Loading his purse with bricks and laying some sick beat downs on people at the tea shop or some shit?” Crude humor and wording were making John’s father squirm uncomfortably, but it seemed to be working. Best tactic.

“Well, no. To my knowledge he’s never gone anywhere dressed like tha-“

“Kiddo went on a date in town with yours a few days back. They were both dressed up, got some nice pictures out of the deal.”

“What? John, in town? Public? Dressed like that? Oh, no. No, no, no, you must be mistaken. What if someone from his school saw? What if someone found out? He’d catch on end of harassment!”

“Unlikely. Actually, they got harassed by some dick bag with a bit too much sauce in his system. Apparently, your kid’s the one that belted him. Not mind, surprisingly enough.” He snorted, adjusting the layer of lace so it would hide further stitches. “Asked Dave why he didn’t at least knee the guy as well, but he said he flipped him the bird. Your kid was a bit too preoccupied with getting them both away from there post haste.”

“John did WHAT? Fighting? Oh, God, do you see? This is why I don’t want him dressing up like that! They got targeted because they were differently dressed and everyone could see they were young men and they just could have avoided it by be-“

“Actually, they got harassed because the guy thought they were two hot babes who wouldn’t give him the time of day. Dude, did you ever even see the pictures?”

From the appalled look, he guessed not. Sighing, Bro lay the dress down on the coffee table before standing, gesturing for the other man to follow him to Dave’s room, flipping on the light carefully. The photos were freshly developed, clear as day, perfect quality. Whenever Dave really devoted time and energy to something, it showed, his work skilled enough to likely land him paying gigs in the future. Hell, even now, if he pursued it enough.

John cupping his own chin and looking dreamy. John with his legs crossed, hands in his lap. John grinning at the camera, face flushed. John, eyes full of a vibrancy James had rarely seen, happy. Obviously in love with whoever was behind the camera. Carefree.

While it was strange, seeing his son turned into a daughter before his very eyes, it wasn’t as unpleasant as he had assumed it would be. Photos of people in the background along the same roll of film showed that they weren’t out of place. The curious glances of onlookers turned more towards something akin to amazement than scorn. Nobody was mad.

Nobody cared.

Yet, here he stood, hating the fact that he still felt so tense and upset about it.

“It just.. It doesn’t seem natural, though!”

“Because that’s what we’ve been taught.”

“Well, what do you mean? How did you react when Dave suddenly came out as wanting to do this?”

“I measured him after I saw how shitty the first purchase fit, helped him find decent things, and got a few for myself.”

“You were able to just look past everything and mov-… Yourself?”

Flicking the light off, closing Dave’s door, he led James towards his own room to show what he was talking about. This room was more orderly, surprisingly enough, everything filed and placed into order for his business, smuppet parts and pieces placed into plastic containers with labels, bins. Books and folders of records and receipts and tracking information lined a wall, orderly.. though it made James wonder if Strider had ever had a proper look over his methods and earnings. There may be a good deal of proper assistance that a good accountant could do, maybe some deals for his business.

Loopholes.

The thoughts of proper business practices died out when the man opened his closet and began pulling things out. Nestled along with the t-shirts and occasional suits, decorative items, were a number of odd things. Frilled skirts that likely would end at his mid-thigh, puffy pantaloons. Costumes from a few shows and games he’d seen John enjoy, make and female. A long orange ball gown, sheer, form fitting, open in the back. Japanese high school uniforms, male and female, adult size, one child size that likely fit Dave, though it seemed to be mid-assembly.

From his drawers he pulled nylons, knee socks, thighs highs, garter belts and garters, panties in varying shades and levels of lace. No shame, no timidity, no regrets. Just laying himself bare before crossing his arms, watching James’ face for reaction.

The reaction was to blush profusely, stare at the blonde, trying to see if he’d been duped. Tricked. This was videotaped somewhere for a shock show, wasn’t it. No. No, it wasn’t, he looked too pleased with himself.

“Man, you need to loosen up something fierce.. or we’re really not going to be getting along.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, loosen up on your kid. Relax. Kids are stupid, they’ve done dumb shit before and will always find a way to do dumb shit. Especially now that they’ve gotten physical with each other.”

“What does Johnathan have to do with..?”

“What I’m saying it, he might go behind your back to do the things he loves, and that shit ain’t cool. If you say no, kids will do whatever they can to do what they want anyway. In this case, sneaking around and feeling ashamed of himself for liking something. Seriously, lighten up on him. I’ll be fucking you over every step of the way otherwise.”

James’ face colored again, annoyance flaring up, temper remaining thus far in check at least. He was a guest in this man’s home, and for John’s sake he wanted to keep things civil with Dave’s guardian. For now, though, he had to go.

“Thank you for the discussion, Mr. Strider, but I’ll handle my son how I see best. Good day.”

“You’ll be back. We’ll have a real talk, then.”

“I most certainly will not for some time. Not until all of this has blown over!”

“Heh.. Curiosity’ll get to you before that. Mark my words.”

“Curiosity over what?”

“You already know, and don’t deny it.” Another grin was set into place as he adjusted his sunglasses with his middle finger, settling down into his computer chair to check a few things for the afternoon, upload the new footage, the model for a spotted smuppet. “Before you ask? For me, it’s a fetish. For Dave, it’s equal parts fetish and simple enjoyment. John may be the same way overall, considering a good deal of the stuff I’ve seen them looking over is meant to make them look like dolls instead of sexual. Any gratification they get is from their own enjoyment, and the enjoyment of each other. Isn’t that what you should really be taking away from this conversation?”

Stammering, not used to such brash conversations, James mumbled a quick apology about his sudden departure and all but ran out the door. Bro already knew he’d be back. They always came back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr mirror- http://themockingcrows.tumblr.com/post/34584042379/lace-and-lust-chapter-2-3


	3. Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Banned from seeing his boyfriend and dressing how he wants in his free time, John is willing to break some of the household rules to get his way. Will it be as easy as he thinks to pull the wool over his dads eyes? Or will a quickie at the movie theater undo every bit of familial trust?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original tumblr post: http://themockingcrows.tumblr.com/post/119110880372/lace-and-lust-ch-3

If his father knew what he was doing, John was all but certain he'd be disowned. After doing a few more questions on his homework, leaving enough that he could bullshit his way through before class arrived the next afternoon, he had left a note on the fridge.

 

= dad! gone to the library, will be gone a few hours. paper demands resources i can't get online, need solid sources. phone is going to be on mute so don't panic if i don't reply to a text right away. - john =

Innocent enough, right? Dutiful, well mannered son leaving a courtesy note for his father instead of seeking permission via the phone in the first place and possibly being told no when he really needed to get to the library, willing to take a tongue lashing for being out late on a school night in the pursuit of knowledge.

Innocent till one took into account the thigh high socks he'd put on under his jeans, the casual knee length jean skirt he'd packed and the black ballet flats tucked securely against a gently bagged black wig. Nothing too showy. Nothing extravagant. Just enough to feel pretty once he got a chance to change at the theater, since Dave seemed to be planning on going all out. No way was he going to let him be the only one to enjoy dressing up when they went out, especially if they were going to be kissing in the back.

… and possibly a bit more if the threat of the bathroom and an open mind was any indication of where things were headed.

Two stops by bus was all it took for a flush faced and excited John to wind up at the library, then another four blocks to escape the blank faces of the stone lions with their square clipped hedges near the stairs to reach the familiar flashing lights of the cinema. He pulled out his phone and started tapping out a text to Dave, wondering where he should wait for him at, if they should go in together and meet up in the theater after buying tickets, or..

“Hey. John, put that down man, you need your prescription checked or somethin'.”

From the spangled red kitten heels leading up into the black and white alternating stripes banding narrow legs like a warning sign, to the black and red skirt he'd been picturing in his minds eye since the end of the online conversation earlier, Dave looked a dream. He'd gone without a wig this time, combing his short hair smartly and spraying the bangs to hold them tighter together above and below where the decorative clips held the strands at bay. In place of a blouse, he'd gone for a layering effect of a thin strapped black tank top with some sort of a red poncho or shoulder wrap that fastened close to his pale throat with buttons as dark as his shades.

Weak at the knee, giddy with delight at seeing Dave in such a familiar state of dress, John found himself unable to move how he wanted. His first instinct was to grab Dave around the waist and lift him up in a hug, then a deep kiss. Maybe stroke at his face and neck, run his thumb along the edges of his sunglasses, touch his lips. Instead, all he managed was a crooked smile.

“H... Hey, Dave.”

Amused at the reaction, Dave smirked and did a wicked little twirl before stopping on a dime, stepping down sharply to click his heels on the concrete. His move earned more than a passing glance from passerby, and a slight pang of jealousy from John. He was literally perfect, somehow, even when relaxed. John wondered if he'd ever be able to reach that level of skill with dressing how he wanted, not having so much anxiety involved with wearing a simple skirt. If he could ever truly look like a doll in layers of lace and make it look so effortless.

“You alright? I know I'm fabulous today, but. Speechless? C'mon, at least give me a kiss. A real one, not those 'oh no the teacher might see' smooches we've been dealin' with,” Dave demanded.

It was a kiss at first. Really, it was. Just an innocent peck on the lips, softly, discretely, savoring the taste of cherry lip balm and the remnants of coffee on his lover's mouth. When Dave showed no interest in pulling back or away, however, John grew bolder and began to do what he'd wanted as soon as Dave had appeared in the first place. After uncurling his fingers, he slipped his hands around the trim waist he loved so much and squeezed, getting enough traction and grip together to be able to lift the blonde from the ground, sending those spangled heels swaying as he wiggled to try regaining footing on something, anything solid.

As soon as Dave felt one strong hand trying to slide from his lower back down to his ass, he had to groan a quiet warning into John's mouth. They were still standing in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the fucking theater, after all, and Dave wasn't huge on PDA from others. Why would he contribute to something he usually bitched about when others did it?

“Hey,” he managed, pulling his face back and planting his hands against John's shoulders for leverage to push against. “C'mon, Romeo, lay off the smoochin' till we're at least paying customers? Movie's gonna start soon, right?”

“Oh. Uh.. Right. Hey, can we make a stop by the bathroom before we hit the theater though?”

“Dude. Seriously? I know what I said, but like. Could ya keep it in your pants long enough at least for some foreplay..?”

Cheeks reddening drastically, John dropped Dave and lifted his hands as though caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“No! Not for that, I just need to change too! I brought a few things.”

“How much? Need the family bathroom, or d'you think the mens room'll work for you?” Dave asked, knowing how shy John still was in a lot of public situations that involved dressing up. If he'd brought an entire outfit in that backpack of his, they'd probably be better off in the family bathroom so there'd be space for Dave to help with the hair and makeup.

“No, nothing extravagant. I'm already wearing the socks. Otherwise, it's just a jean skirt and some flats..”

“Oooh, sounds classy. Anything else, or do you expect me to tame that wiry ass hair of yours? I didn't bring any gel or clips.”

“Oh! Yeah, a wig.”

“A wig, AND a cap?”

“....Uh..”

Sighing, Dave shook his head.

“If the color's the same as yours, it should be fine. Your hair's still plenty short enough to be hidden under there. Seriously tho, wig caps help in the long run.”

“Yes, yes, I know. I haven't gotten to wear one in a while, so I forgot. Sue me. I'm nowhere near the guru that you are, Dave.”

“Yup. Bow before me. But preferably not in front of the damn place anymore..? Hell if I know if they'll even let us inside now, how we've been carryin' on. Probably gonna get demoted from the horror movie to a specialized showing of Weenie Hut Junior.” Dave paused and glanced to John before stretching. “Ah. Spoke too soon. SUPER Weenie Hut Junior, my mistake.”

“Dave. DAVE!”

“Sorry, can't hear you over the background interference. I'm sensitive to nerd speak.”

“Ugh..”

\- - - - - - -

Buying their tickets had gone off without a hitch, with most people wanting to see the movie at other times, or maybe even other theaters than this older one with the scuffed up sticky floors and the permanently worn in seating. Nobody paid attention to anyone in the back rows in places like these. It was pretty obvious why two teens would want to sit as far from the screen as possible in the dark together.

Getting changed was another problem entirely.

“John, seriously, I knew you had a muffin top but..”

“It's the cut of the skirt, I thought it was the right size!”

“Where'd you measure the waist from,” Dave asked, none too surprised when John motioned above his bellybutton at the thinnest pat of his waist. “...Uh huh. Okay. So. How'd you think this was gonna get up to Steve Urkel heights of success if it can't squeeze over your thighs and hips?”

“I can put it on over my head!” John said, stubbornly trying to compress his shoulders and torso in on themselves in the large stall, stocking clad knees bending in towards each other like a wobbly colt. Dave tipped his head at the blue checked boxers his boyfriend wore, half surprised he didn't go with something softer and more appropriate for the occasion of dressing up. Maybe something lacy.

“Hey. John. What's up with the clunk trunks?”

“Huh? Oh.. Well, my briefs were all in the wash, and it's not like I can get away with keeping that kind of stuff around. At least for now.”

“What, hidin' spots not good?”

“Dave, my father lifted up the fridge with one arm to vaccum underneath it. He has done this multiple times. There is no such thing as 'safe hiding spot' in the Egbert household. Especially not for frilly panties.”

“Well.. You look good in frills,” Dave said slowly, pressing himself close to John's side as he gave up struggling with the skirt, tracing his fingertips from low at the border of socks and skin up to the thin boxer material and higher to his sensitive waist and lower ribs. “Look good in ribbon and lace. Look good in nothin' at all as well, if memory serves.”

Faltering with any attempt at words for a moment, John was left dry mouthed and mumbly.

“I.... uh.” Yes, John. Bravo. The Oscar will surely go to you, you gloriously verbose bastard.

“How about we try your skirt another time. I'll have Bro take a look into lettin' it out so it'll fit you right, denim's pretty forgiving.”

“But..”

“We'll get a good sized snack for you to hold while I have mine.”

“... Dave?”

Dave grinned, showing the faint cross of his front teeth clearly in the florescent lighting.

“Well.. Yeah. I guess that might be a bit much for out in the open, even for me. I'm just glad to actually be able to lay my hands on you for a bit, even if it's at a stupid movie theater.” He frowned, brows creased. “You sure you can't drop by my place at all? Even for a little while..? Could actually try doin' homework if you do.”

“It'd be too big of a risk, to go to your house right now.”

Dave snorted and shook his head, gesturing down to himself with both hands as if to say, 'and this isn't a risk?'

“Well, it's different! I'm actually going the right way, to the library, when I come here. You live the opposite direction, first off. I'm already going towards being grounded till college just from doing this, let alone fully dressing up at all.. or seeing you. Or doing anything with you.”

“In a run down trashy bathroom because it's the best we can do. You seriously sure you don't want me and Bro to like. Give you lifts now and then? Get our spy on, secret drop offs and pick ups. How high can you kick, and how d'you think you'll react to a full body latex paint catsuit?”

“In heels or flats?”

“John, who are you talking to right now.”

“... Mmmmn...nnnnnah. Gonna have to pass on that one. I'm just not quite up to snuff. Okay. So. Not wearing the skirt, not doing the wig unless I'm in the skirt. Doesn't feel quite right for me. Maybe I'll wear the flats?” he reasoned as he fully removed the skirt and folded it over his arm in defeat. Measurements were still the hardest thing for him to understand about his expanding interests. Why didn't skirts just stick to the same numbers that menswear did, so they'd make sense and be easier to find?

“If you wanna, go for it. It'd prolly feel better than keeping on your sneakers, and it's low key enough that there wouldn't be anyone buggin' you.” Seriously, who gave a damn about what kinds of shoes people wore in this day and age when there were monstrosities like the foreleg high heels clumping around in the wild?

Agreeing, John slipped his shoes off and carefully tugged on the set from his bag, loving the way the sock slicked feet settled right into place compared to the drag he felt from the lining of his sneakers. The skirt and the sneakers were tucked into his backpack and zipped securely into place before he grinned.

“Hey, want to go get our seats while we can? Don't wanna wind up missing the only decent make-out seat because we were dorking around in the bathroom after the advertisements already finished rolling, right?”

“Yeah, we should kick it, the lights are probably already down and everything.”

After a last minute check in the mirror, the two left hand in hand for the theater, catching a few passing glances before slipping off into the dark.

\- - - - - - - -

The library his paternal posterior. Did John really expect him to believe that he was going to the library suddenly without warning? John? The same John who miraculously managed to get excellent grades yet put off projects till hours before the were due, gluing things into place and organizing note cards on the bus, taking extra bathroom breaks to rehearse speeches and answers for oral exams. The same John who, despite an enthusiasm for science and the unknown, had no interest in majoring in anything accredited yet?

That John wouldn't go to the library short notice without a looming deadline and his teacher or lab partner breathing down his neck.

That John.. would be grounded till he was forty at this rate.

Time to hunt that boy down.

Tracking John's path was, likely, going to prove easy. John was a clever young man but not always the sneakiest. It was no surprise to James at all when, after a quick drive to the library John had claimed to be going to produced no son lurking among the shelves. No surprise either that there was a movie theater in range, with staff that seemed to recall seeing a boy that matched John's description buying a ticket.

“That movie is already in progress now, right?”

“Yes, sir, it began about fifteen to twenty minutes ago.”

“I'd like a ticket.”

“Sir, I can't sell you a ticket to this showing, but perhaps to the next?”

“Ma'am. I need to casually catch my son red handed in his fibbing to his old man, and to do that I need to be allowed in the theater. If I pay for a ticket for the NEXT showing, will you allow me to walk in to catch him like I need to?”

After purchasing a ticket and explaining his situation to the manager, James was steadily heading to the second door on his right and slipping into the dark theater to find a seat near the exit. Instead of ruining the movie for others or causing a problem if John was startled or angry at being caught red handed, it would be far more prudent to guard the doorway in case he left before the movie ended, and try scanning the rows of seats in the flickering light of the screen instead to see precisely what was going on.

James didn't want a scene. He just wanted to show John there was no pulling the wool over his eye-... was that David? James narrowed his eyes and looked towards the back of the theater towards a shock of pale hair, squinting further when he realized that there were two people up there. That was Dave alright. … and there was John. The two weren't watching the movie so much as making out as un-subtly as any teenagers, hands alternating between cupping the others neck and head and cheeks.

So.

John hadn't just lied about going to the library, but he'd gone to the movies. To meet Dave. To slobber all over Dave in the back of a movie theater with no shame. He couldn't look away, though, as his feelings began to conflict.

When he was younger, John's age especially, he'd been no stranger to sneaking around with whichever lovely girl he was seeing at the time. He'd gotten caught by his own mother mid-feature at the drive in once or twice, now that he thought on it. Was what John did... really so bad? Maybe he should just leave now and bring it up to him at home later.

Then, however, they'd stood up and he caught sight of what they were wearing. Dave was dressed in a very feminine outfit, heels and a skirt and stockings. They were doing it again. Still doing it. Had John truly ever stopped? Was he hiding more of that at home, or was he keeping it somewhere else? At school? Was Dave keeping it all for him and making deliveries like some strange little lingerie dealer on a street corner? Jame was baffled, stomach tight and temper peaking.

This was what he'd been trying to stop, to prevent, and yet here it was on his lap all over again.

The movie was only halfway over, yet the boys were already leaving hand in hand, stifling soft laughter as they talked. James ducked his head low and tried to blend in to his surroundings like the worlds worst chameleon as the boys trailed closer and out the exit, none the wiser. They were far too caught up in each other to see anything else unless it hit them in the face right now.

Where were they going now, though..? If they went to the library now, he'd have to concede that John had actually.. NOT lied. Sort of. If they headed towards the Strider household and John went inside as well, however, he would have to interfere immediately. That was over the line entirely in accordance with his currently enacted punishment. Before they could get too far away, James was standing up to follow at a distance, surprised when they went into the mens room. Damn it. He could just wait outside for them to leave, but that left the risk of those two walking out and seeing him. Maybe he could just stick around inside near the door, just out of sight.. He'd know when to duck out and keep out of view, then, right?

James entered the mens room just as he heard a single stall door shut, John and Dave talking in quiet mumbles to cut down on echoes. Only one of them needed to go, then. Good thing he hadn't gone inside fully, only to run face to face into David or his own son. Talk about awkward.

Or, at least he thought it would have been awkward till he started to hear the mumbles go quiet, and heard the first hitch of breath.

No. No, they wouldn't be.. No, not here. Not here! Oh, God, no, John what were you thinking. That's not something to do outside of the house! A moan James was sure belonged to Dave pierced the silence of the washroom, immediately followed by a hissed 'Quiet, Dave!' from his son and a series of wet sounds behind the door.

James couldn't leave fast enough, rushing outside the door and softly closing it to avoid detection, all but running for the exit to the building. His face was on fire, his heart hammering in his chest. Why. Why would John do such a thing in a mens room? 

Because it was the only place he could, James realized with a sinking feeling.

Slowly, he stopped running and reached his car, leaning against the door as he wiped at his face. He pulled out his phone and opened the phone book, sliding his thumb along the screen till he hit the name Strider. He rested his palm over his eyes, trying to calm down, not wanting his voice to waver when he swallowed hs words.

A familiar voice answered, smooth, distracted.

“Thank you for callin' West Central Proctology, how may I finger you today?”

“Mr. Strider.”

“Ah. Sup?” How easily the man switched gears was amazing.

“... It's about the boys.”

“Ready for some help, then?”

“........Yes. Yes, I am. I'll do whatever you think will help, this can't keep ”

There was silence for a moment before he heard Bro chuckle to himself.

“You free tomorrow afternoon? Let's meet up for dinner somewhere so we can talk battle plan. Oh. Yeah. Be sure to wear briefs instead'a boxers, too.”

Before James would ask what he meant, Bro had already hung up. ...This was going to be a stressful day, wasn't it.


	4. Exposure Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro Strider teaching James Egbert the ins and outs of lingerie in order to slowly try to understand his sons casual interest in cross dressing can only end in good things. ...Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original tumblr posting: http://themockingcrows.tumblr.com/post/134584654942/lace-and-lust-ch-4-exposure-therapy

“Exposure therapy.”

“.. Mr. Strider, I don't quite understand wh-”

“Exposure therapy.”

“Yes, you've said that, but I do-”

“Did I fuckin' stutter?”

James sighed and rubbed at his face in exasperation, looking side to side before back to the waiting man in front of him. The mall was a fairly open place after all. Wouldn't they be better off doing this more secretly? Discretely? How had John gotten hold of the things he owned, surely he hadn't just walked in and bought them. Maybe Dave had bought them.

“Can't I just purchase these over an internet service?”

Bro lifted a brow at the term.

“.... You sure you're not John's grandpa, talkin' like that? We gonna plug into the information super highway next? Surf the interwebs? Should I whip out an Ethernet cable so you can hack into the internet?” he asked, looking more and more amused the more visible James' frustration became. God, this guy was fun to tease. How often did he even get to pester working stiffs anyway?

“Mr. Strider, you said you would be helping, and so far all you've done is be rude and.. and childish! Now please, will you just explain to me why we need to purchase anything HERE instead of ONLINE.”

Oh, there was that angry face and tone, authoritarian, severe.

Bro found himself wondering if the guy would have the ability to sound the same in bed. If he was an order giver or an order taker.

Good wank thoughts for later if the thought tank was low, at least.

“Because buyin' something online when you've never done it before can be risky size-wise. We don't know how tight or loose you need somethin', and buying things earmarked for a femme market when you're packin' heat means they potentially won't fit right. I'm not personally able to handle too much tuckin' and foldin'. Feels like dick origami after a while.”

“Is.. Is that the only thing we're buying?”

“Oh, no, we're gettin' a whole set. Prolly two sets and several individual bits so there's some variety to play with.”

James frowned at him. It would be one thing if he had just been in to snag one or two items. If anyone had paid too close of attention to him, he could just as easily have claimed it was for a wife he didn't have. Maybe a girlfriend. But so many would just raise some eyebrows, or make them put two and two together. Oh, God, why was this happening to him. He was a good man, paid his taxes, recycled. James didn't deserve this.

Bro noticed the look on his face and raised a brow.

“..You're doin' this to get out of thick shit with your kiddo. Remember your goals, if nothin' else,” he said, reaching over to pat the man's shoulder. “C'mon. Let's get in there and find what we need before you give yourself a stroke from anxiety. I don't know CPR.”

At a loss for rebuttals, James swallowed harshly before nodding, allowing himself to be led into the unknown.

The unknown was.. actually a lot more pink than he'd have assumed. It smelled pleasant and was orderly though, the sales section well maintained and more decorative than it looked from the outside. It reminded him distinctly of his mothers closet growing up, the clinging scent of perfume and sachets in wooden drawers, everything soft and pale and pointedly forbidden from him.

Mostly. What mother didn't know didn't hurt her after all, according to his shame filled memories.

The down side of this section was everything was numbered, and sized, and categorized so differently. There were smalls and larges, plus sizes, numbers that looked similar to when he went shopping for trousers. Were they for length? Width? Everything looked delicate and small and like it would shred if he tried to pull them onto his own body.

Bro didn't seem that bothered by anything, going to brands he recognized and thumbing through the offerings with a practiced eye. Now and then, he'd glance at James as though sizing him up, before going back to the piles. After nearly five minutes of Strider searching and James awkwardly standing by, refusing to lay hands on the feminine underthings, Bro broke the silence.

“Alright. Judgin' from your height and width to mine, this seems about the size you'd need. This brand here, with the black tag? That'll have a snug fit if you pick anything in this row. Anything on this one with a blue tag will be a bit looser, if you're actually hidin' some pudge behind that starched outfit and crisp corners.”

James stared at him, brows lifting.

“..What about any of these?” he asked, gesturing to a large selection that hadn't been mentioned. Bro picked an example panty up to show as he spoke, holding it too near James' face for his liking.

“No, see. This one's not worth even a quarter of what they're chargin' on the fucking tag. The lace isn't secured for shit and is stiff and nasty. The fabric is cheap as shit. It'll stretch and lose its shape forever, immediately. No amount of hand washin'll fix that. The liner isn't secured at all, it'll flop out weird. Finally? The top band is -really- flimsy.”

The man knew his fabrics. The man knew his panties as well, apparently.

“C'mon, once you pick some colors and styles out, I'll know what kind'a belt you'll work best with.”

“Belt?” James asked hopefully.

“Yeah. Garter belt'd prolly be playing it safe. I don't know how well thigh highs or stockings'll stay up on their own for you without'em.”

James' face fell sharply, stomach clenching. Oh. Oh, God, he was serious wasn't he.

“...Don't gimme that look, don't some of you business types use those little calf versions to keep dress socks from fallin' down into wads?” Bro said with a frown. What was the name? “If you just look at the fact it's the same as what you already wear? I promise this isn't as terrifyin' as you're making it. That's literally all that's keeping you from accepting what your kid's up to.”

“I will have you know I wear -nothing- like any of these items, and I'm not just having trouble accepting my son wearing.. wearing women's clothing! I'm having trouble still with him lying, with him running around in public having sex! It's got to be linked. Deviant behavior is always linked.”

Bro stared at him after his outburst, waiting till he quieted himself down, shy about staring that was occurring.

“...Are you honestly tryin' to suggest panties and stockings are a gateway drug, or.”

“No, I-”

“First the stockings. Then the panties. Then, oh, then. Then they feel pretty and wear the skirt and frills. Then there is nothing but floof, and the world will cry.”

“Can you please take this seriously.. I don't want to be here forever,” James said meekly, reaching out to touch one of the items to indicate what color he'd picked. Bro grabbed two of them and slung them over his forearm, as well as something in a tangerine shade for himself, loud, bright. Obnoxious. A sidestep and they were heading to the next section.

“Do you usually wear slacks? Thin material or starched and thicker.”

“I.. I'm usually dressed as I appear right now,” James said, gesturing to his neatly tucked shirt, his tie and smartly perched hat, polished shoes and nicely pressed slacks. “Unless it's a weekend at home, then I indulge in t-shirts and sweatpants. Perhaps bluejeans for doing work around the house, or quick runs to the store.”

“...How far up your ass is the stick lodged, again?” Bro said, slightly baffled. “I don't think my puppets even have theirs that far up, they'd suffocate.”

“Mr. Strider, I am -this- close to leaving and dropping this entire endeavor if you don't stop heckling me and take this seriously!”

Bro rolled his eyes again and turned to make a few selections on the fly, guessing at sizes and aiming for neutral colors for the most part. The only deviants that weren't in his own preferred shades of sunset and eyestrain were in soft, powdery blues and pinks. James seemed like a good shade of baby blue would do him wonders.

“Exposure therapy is gonna proceed like this then. Step one was comin' to the store and picking stuff out, which you only half failed at. Good for you. Step two is gonna be you wearin' these things under your normal clothes, with nobody but you knowin'.”

“...At home?”

“Yep. At home, at work. Hell, wear'em to church.”

“MR. STRIDER, THA-”

“I'm pretty sure Jesus could forgive ya if you coordinate your colors, guy's pretty acceptin' from what Sparknotes says about his book,” Bro said smoothly as he led the agitated man through the store like a hedge maze. The briefest of pauses was made when he spotted a slip in Dave's size that he might enjoy with some of his darker coords and had to snatch it up.

“I don't think I can DO that. Everyone would know,” James insisted, brows furrowed. 

“Did you know I'm wearin' a thong right now?” Bro said without lowering his voice as they hit the checkout lane, taking out his wallet to pay for the purchases. He'd just let James pay his portion later, if at all. Call the first lesson a gift, since it was already apparently traumatizing to the guy. Good first steps.. but it made Bro all the more curious as to just why he was so adamantly upset about his son dressing how he pleased.

“Yo-. I. Wha-??”

“I'm not, but it makes you think don't it. Who would know? None of these are very frilled, nobody's aware of anything. Are you aware of if a woman's matchy-matchy or not, if she's rockin' tops and bottoms at the same time under her clothes?”

The cashier seemed interested by the exchange and took her time scanning the delicate clothes, bagging them nicely with tissue paper in an upright sack for privacy. From James' raised hands and insistent shaking of his head, it seemed to be a 'no' on that front as well.

“C'mon. You can come by my place, we'll order pizza or somethin', and you can learn the ins and outs of these things.”

 

\- - - - -

 

Going to Bro's apartment didn't become a regular occurrence, but the presence of the Strider brothers in the Egbert household did over the next few weeks. While Dave still wasn't allowed over alone, or the boys out alone, the fact they just ran off and met up somewhere else was not commented on. Let them think they were being sneaky for a while, it wasn't hurting anything.

Bro came over more often, but John didn't seem to notice. Same as he didn't notice that his father had grown to appreciate the feeling of silky stockings over his legs twice as much once he'd bitten the bullet and shaved them with the same attentive care as his face. It was a soothing ritual, and just made the pleasure all the more scandalous feeling.

He was in his own living room in thigh high stockings and a garter belt, with a matching set of panties covering his loins. The 'dick origami' Bro had alluded to hadn't needed to occur, simply tucking himself into place and going about his business. It was a stretch of the fabric's resources the few times he'd found himself aroused and not knowing how to handle it properly, but now..

Now, James was thoroughly mastering the art of laying his length upright. Especially when Bro came to spend time with him.

 

Their talks were still quite straight forward, Bro having everything but tact at his disposal and all the subtlety of a brick to the face. He would talk about projects he was working on for Dave or himself, alterations, the ins and outs of different styles and just how deadly serious some people took the style. Apparently, while his brother partook in a few different styles for certain outfits, he actually was starting to slowly veer away from set styles in favor of making his own. With the weather extremes of the area, Dave didn't want to be too constricted if he felt like dressing up.

While that was a world James would never know of, he found it admirable that the young man was striking out in favor of himself. It made him feel better about the younger Strider dating his son and.. guiding him. Better Dave than Bro, in his book.

Bro was lounging by James' side watching television with him, relaxed enough to tip his hat back for once. He was licking his fingers free of chocolate frosting from one of James' recent baking projects, strawberry chocolate chip cupcakes with a dark chocolate buttercream coating its surface in a decorative swirl. James was finishing one as well, though far cleaner, savoring the richness and fresh ingredients he'd added to his favorite box mix. Just wasn't anything quite like that extra bit of butter that really brought out the texture.

“Hey. You're pretty much neutral now, far as the kiddos go, right?” Bro asked, apparently enraptured by the nondescript actors and the sappy music of daytime drama, eyes locked forward. “You haven't been bustin' them for the obvious bullshit, and I'm pretty much positive John's dressed up a few times casually for dates. I don't think he'd need ballet flats for school, is all I'm sayin'.”

James glanced over before looking down at the last bite of cupcake.

“..Yes. I'm neutral now I suppose. I'm aware David has no ill will towards John, and I know it's just something they're interested in. Even if I don't understand it.”

Bro frowned at him, looking directly towards his face.

“Don't understand it? What part don't you get?”

“The entire thing, really.”

“Have you really been learnin' anything, or are you just smilin' and nodding and keeping all those things in your drawer.”

“I've been wearing them quite often, daily in fact,” James countered sourly, wadding up his cupcake wrapper and tossing it into the small trash can beside the coffee table. “Why, I'm even wearing them now.”

“Oh yeah?” Bro said, licking the last trace of chocolate off his thumb before making a potshot into the same wastebasket with his rubbish. “Prove it.”

“Proof is what you want, proof is what you will have,” James said, lifting his leg and tugging his pant leg up slightly to display the pale covering over the skin of his ankle and foot. “See? Seamless all the way to the thigh.”

“That's cute, but that ain't proof.”

“I-. What kind of proof do you need then? Are you not looking at the proof? You're the one who bought these, and here I am wearing them.”

Bro cocked a brow.

“Yeah. I bought several things, and I see the simplest one. I'd like proof of the rest, though.”

James' cheeks burnt and his brows lifted upwards. Oh. OH.

“You.. want to see them?”

“Yes, I wanna see the full set. Seein' is believin', and I'm not much of a believer till I see. Besides, aside from helping you get into the belt the first time with your briefs, I haven't seen any of it.”

James frowned at him.

“What would you even gain by SEEING them on me? I've told you how they look, and I've told you I'm wearing them.”

Bro grinned that charming quirk of his lips that made him look younger than he actually was. It looked wolfish in this situation, a bit predatory. He lifted his left hand up to tip his shades down, peering over the top edges.

“How about.. you show me yours, and I'll show you mine.”

“..You're..?”

“Yup. Decided to get all dolled up before visitin', instead of showin' up with my dick out all commando style. Ain't I a gentleman, not wipin' my dick on your sofa through my jeans.”

“I'm not showing anything in the living room, I'm not sure when John's coming back for sure. I'll show you upstairs, since you're so insistent,” James decided, standing up and turning the TV off with the remote, adjusting his trousers and shirt anxiously. Wait. Had he seriously just agreed to show Bro his underwear in his bedroom? A pang of teenage brand awkwardness clenched in his stomach, but there was no backing out now. Straightening his back, James strode for the stairs and started to climb, hearing the soft creak and shift of cloth as Bro stood up from the sofa and followed hot on his heels.

James could smell laundry detergent, aftershave, the solid notes of chocolate and strawberry from the treat he'd finished eating. Better than a few times he'd turned up smelling like gas station burritos and energy drink. At least now, it wasn't such a bad thing to be close.

After opening his door, James flicked on the light and strode in, gesturing for Bro to sit. Cheeky, the man sat on the edge of the bed instead of the chair near the bureau and leaned forwards over his knees as if this were an excellent show, waiting eagerly.

“Do you really need to stare like that?”

“Do you really need to tease like that?”

“I'm not teasing, I'm asking!”

“Well, it sure as hell isn't proving you're actually wearing the whole kit and kaboodle, now is it. Chop chop,” Bro sassed, laughing softly when James didn't look amused. “Alright, alright, I'll chill a bit. Okay? Just not sure if you're tellin' the truth, and as a bonus if you are, I get another look at your legs.”

He'd just gotten the top button undone and started in on his fly when James had to look up, a bit startled.

“What's so interesting about an old man's legs?”

“Old man. Are you serious right now, you're what. Ten years older? Give or take?” he asked, brow lifted. “Unless you're secretly the guy the dermatologists all hate.”

“Excuse me?”

“It's a meme, don't worry about it.”

“That still doesn't answer my question as to why you were so interested in seeing my legs. ..It also doesn't fulfill the portion you mentioned of me seeing yours. If we're playing doctor here, we might as well do this properly,” James said, trying to be bold. Was Bro really wearing stockings as well? Was he just goofing around..? The blonde was damn near impossible to read correctly.

Bro took off his hat and shades and set them aside with a soft thump before he stood up, taking off his shirt.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing! You were just going to show me the bottoms!” James cried, a bit startled, pulling the front of his trousers closed again as if to close them again.

“Well, yeah. Might as well show the whole package, since I'm the one that started this shit. Looks better this way anyway.”

James.. had to agree to that point. The man was well muscled on his long limbs, far from bulky. The kind of toned that was made for speed and strength instead of brute force like his own muscle. Could Bro lift fridges? Who knew.

Bro whistled softly to gain James' wandering attention, gesturing at his pants and starting to undo them. At the first trace of white frill, James swallowed the lump in his throat and let his pants drop as well.

They stood barely three feet apart in his bedroom, James in his button down shirt and tie, Bro bare chested, both in stockings, garter belts and feminine underwear. Where his own sported a small series of ruffles at the front that he found good for securing his girth when moving around or sleeping, Bro wore a set that was sleeker and thinner, the pale material much easier to see through. Every rounded inch from testicle to tip was easy to make out.

Twice as easily because he was hard.

“...What can I say,” Bro offered in his own defense, shameless, hands going to his own hips instead of trying to cover the stiffening shape at all. Displaying like a peacock. “You're rockin' the full set, and you're workin' it like a pro. I love a man in skin tight cloth.”

James' stomach tensed and warmed, cock giving an interested twitch despite himself. Fuck. How long had it been since he'd felt like this? There'd never been a situation like this before, all being new, yet..

“When was the last time you were in contact with David? About his location or arrival home?” James asked, glancing at the clock on his bedside table before letting his eyes wander along the well defined body in front of him that didn't seem to be going anywhere fast.

“Not really the best time to be talkin' about the kiddo, considerin' the situation. But I guess a few hours ago?”

“Was the plan for dinner here, or at your own home.”

“Hadn't decided, I think he was gonna leave that up to John.”

“...We've got an hour or two to spare, then.”

Bro looked curious and took the bait.

“For..?”

“For us to see just how properly the both of us are wearing these things, and how much I'm willing to take off.”

“Egbert, I like how you think. Trust me. I'm an excellent teacher.”

“Exposure therapy,” James said firmly. That's all it would be. Nothing more. No attachments, nothing deep. Just.. Just a sample.

 


	5. Not Just Tolerating Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bro got James to cut loose, both with the stockings and with himself, and through that he’s come to terms with John’s habits and proclivities with Dave. But accepting and turning away is different from accepting with open arms. With a final push, hopefully, the rift will be repaired before it becomes a permanent problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr mirror: http://themockingcrows.tumblr.com/post/147557800232/lace-and-lust-ch-5-not-just-tolerating-anymore

John and Dave arrived mid-creak of the bed springs, calling from the ground floor to let James know they were there since he wasn't in the living room or kitchen (surprise of all surprises). A look of horror crossed James' face, panic in his eyes as he looked up at the man moving with him, whose hand was wrapped firmly around both their lengths from where he rested snug between his legs.

This had to stop, this absolutely had to stop, the children were here and they were fooling around while dressed in stockings and formerly in panties as well, and this had to stop oh GOD what was he doing, what was he DOING!

“Hey, the kids ar-Nnnn...!”  
  
Bro stroked harder, squeezed tight at the first sound of complaint, leaned forward and kissed him while his mouth had been open. He snuck his tongue inside with the lessened resistance, forcing down James' as he leaned forward, keeping him distracted and quiet.

 

“Daaaaad? Dad, me and Dave're here, sorry if you tried to text me earlier or something, my phone died,” John called out from downstairs with noises of shuffling in place. They must be wrangling their shoes off, maybe even rough housing or getting a snack. “Oh no, he's been baking again..”

 

James prayed that his son would stay downstairs, maybe watch television down there, or go to the yard, anything to earn some time. Surely when they'd finished Bro would release him and they could separate carefully to avoid raising suspicion too high. There had to be something in the closet he could whip out as an explanation to the boys as to why he was sweating and red in the face, why he was in his room with Bro.

… Sewing? Repairs? Alterations and some fruitless lifting around in his closet hunting for different things? Maybe he could get the hatch to the attic open without raising too much suspicion, there was no way John would buy him getting red faced and sweaty over moving some boxes, when typically refrigerators were nothing more than a minor inconvenience to his daily mopping routine. There had to be something to lie with that didn't feel like too bad of a lie if they asked.

Focusing was hard though, between the man probing your mouth and working your dick like a pro. He had long fingers and a firm grip, roughened palms despite the fact that he wore gloves so often. Come to think of it, you'd never seen him without them.. What on Earth did he do to make his hands so rough and why did the fain scratch against the softer skin of your cock feel so toe curlingly fantastic?

 

He kissed you till you came over the top of his hand, kissed you down into the mattress as he rocked his hips up into his own fist and against your now hyper-sensitive dick, adding a new dimension of friction you hadn't realized you needed so badly. How long had it been since you'd really had sex? When was the last time? ...Had it really been that long..?

When Bro came it was with a grunt, painting James' chest with a few heated spatters before pulling up for air, breathing heavily and bracing his weight on his forearms so he could apparently get a good look at his ruffled appearance. James was tempted to lean forward, take another kiss since this was a one time thing and enjoying himself had felt fantastic, but halted when he heard footsteps climbing the stairs.

 

“Dad? You alright? The cars outside.. you home?” John's voice called, obviously concerned by his father's lack of response. “..I don't know, Dave, I don't hear him up here.”

“Seniors should carry Life Alert,” came Dave's voice from beyond the door, barley containing laughter.

“He's not a senior!” John defended. “He's just.. Older than us. Actually, I'm probably going to look a lot like him when I'm that age, so, get used to that idea if you're going to stick around that long. Lift fridges with one hand, run the vac with the other. I will be able to swan lift you with a pinky.”  
  
“...You already kind of can, but uh, that's. Shit, I thought you were kidding about the fridge thing.”

 

John knocked at James' door and his heart stopped, realizing the door hadn't been locked. Oh fuck, John was so close and Bro was refusing to get up, staying calmly perched in place atop him like a big cat over a fresh kill.

 

“Dad, are you in there? Are you okay? You're kinda freaking me out,” he said as he started to slowly turn the knob.

“Fine!” James croaked out, voice higher in pitch from panic. He coughed, cleared his throat. “I'm fine, son, don't worry. But if you could be a sport, leave my door shut? Unless you want me to flash David, I mean. I'll be down in a little bit, I got overheated while baking earlier.”

“Oh. Sure thing, Dad, I can do that. Dave and I were going to go to my room for a bit anyway, just call us if you need us alright?”

“Absolutely, John. You two have fun, there's some treats in the kitchen and dinner will be on the table later. I hope David enjoys casseroles.”

 

Bro hummed interestedly. Casserole, huh? Nice. He leaned forward, bit gently at the crook of James' neck till he squirmed, keeping the bites and nibbles low enough that a straight collared shirt would cover the site perfectly considering that the man practically lived in starch pressed business attire.

 

When two sets of footsteps had retreated down the hall and the door firmly shut, James' body untensed and he tossed his head back with a heavy sigh of relief.

 

“Oh my God I haven't been that anxious since high school escapades..”

“Here I was so sure the kid'd open the door.”

“You should have gotten off me then, if you were so sure! There's no way I could explain this to John. Stockings, maybe. Sure. Okay. Maybe even the other things. But you? This? No. I can't explain this.”

“Shhhh, it was a one time thing, right? Exposure therapy? Not like you're proposing, unless that casserole has a bomb ass ring hidden inside it. Might wanna ruin the surprise if so, Dave sucks at rememberin' to chew his food,” Bro said as he finally peeled off entirely, walking to the tissue box that rested neatly atop James' bureau in order to wipe himself down and clear the worst of the mess off his hands till he could reach a bathroom. Though it took a minute for him to rise, James followed suit in cleaning himself up, tugging on some briefs instead of another set of panties as he ignored Bro's huff of disapproval. After a call that close, he didn't need to be enjoying the close curve of soft fabric, he needed distraction. A LOT of distraction.

“Yes it was a one time thing. It was... It was nice,” James finally said. “I'm surprised how nice it was, really. It's more of a feeling that I shouldn't pursue it given the situation.”

“What, the runts datin', or..?”

“...The situation,” James said as he pulled back on his discarded pants and sought a clean shirt to wear instead of putting on the other one again now that it was rumpled. “The fact that this entire scenario came about because of you getting me to buy these things, and then suddenly disrobing an-”

“And making you think with your dick for the first time since John was conceived?” Bro offered, tugging up his pants and doing his belt buckle, fishing on his shoes and tying them in place after sitting on the edge of James' bed. “You're welcome for that, by the way.”

 

Face flaming, he fixed his hair and checked his appearance again, wanting to be well put together before heading downstairs to finish getting dinner ready in case John and Dave came downstairs without warning. Needed to be put together and perfect, presentable, needed to put on the best appearance.

 

“.. You don't plan on tellin' him a damn thing, huh,” Bro said, frowning. “I'm glad you're not giving the kids shit anymore, but. Come on, at least be more obvious with your acceptance maybe?”

“I've stopped complaining, I've let them try to be sneaky. What more can I do?”

“Get involved. Give your blessin' directly. Participate, maybe. Have you ever really seen them both dressed up and relaxed? Have you helped, yet?”

“Well, no, I. Like I said, I thought allowing it and looking the other way was what was important from all this?” James asked, frowning at Bro's look of general upset. “Isn't that good enough? I kind of understand it now, and I'm not getting in the way of anything or preventing them from living their lives. I'm accepting it. That's the entire goal!”

“The letter of the law's been followed, yeah, but c'mon man. Isn't parental bonding like.. the number one thing you're about? Spendin' time with the kiddo and stuff was important when he was young, yeah? Why not participate now. Get that shit going again, especially since you seem to be enjoying things so much.”

“I enjoy stockings and underclothes beneath my regular clothing, that's all!” James hissed, knowing what Bro was edging towards, but feeling too tense to actually step forward and admit what precisely was happening. That wasn't something he felt confident in doing, there was no way he'd forsake his slacks, he hadn't dressed up like that since he was a child far younger than John was. There was no way he was doing it now. “You're not going to force me into anything like that, I absolutely refuse, and if you push the letter I -will- push back.”

 

Bro raised a brow.

 

“Wow. Rein it in there, Egbert, relax. I'm not stuffin' you in a ballgown, I was suggesting you let the kid know you're kind of into parts of it too. Maybe chillin' around him while he's dressed up, instead of doin' the really shitty sneak around he still feels like he has to do. 'Cause like. The fact he's still being so sneaky means he's not comfortable at all.”

“How do you know that for sure? Just because he doesn't do the dressing up at home doesn't mean he's uncomfortable at all!”

“He turned up fully outfitted recently at my place and chilled playin' videogames while Dave tried to do his nails. He kept movin' and dying the wrong way, and the paint kept smearin'. He took it all off before goin' home anyway, I assume, but it was cute seein' them relaxed before going out again. Wouldn't it be cool to have your kid in your house, relaxing downstairs, feeling comfortable with himself? Or at least comfortable in general, I've got a feelin' you're the kinda guy who's a bit stingy with the air conditioner.”

James tensed. … Was that really how it was? Was Bro actually right? Or was there some other way to restore the bond that may have been damaged by all of this mess and confusion?  
  
“Is that just what they do all the time? Dress up? ..Is it not just for dates anymore?”

Bro shook his head.

“No. They're dressed down and chill more often. The dressed up times just stand out more in my mind because hearin' someone dolled up like a virgin sacrifice cussin' at the top of his lungs at a console freeze is a treat.”

 

James looked down at the floor, then towards the part of the house that held John's room, just a few walls away. He looked back to Bro then, looking resolute.

“I refuse to dress up further than I already am. I absolutely refuse. ...But tell me how I can fix this. You already made me understand the phenomena, let me at least undo the damage my words and actions did. How do I fix this? Just.. tell him I'm a little bit similar now, thanks to him?”

“That's a start. Like I said though: being exposed directly, in the house, might make things a bit more safe.”

“... How,” James said again, not so much sounding desperate as sounding a little lost. This wasn't like sorting the proper paperwork or correcting mathematical and filing errors, this was a strange and delicate subject regarding the most important person in the world to him. “Tell me -how-, and cut the vague or secretive act. Considering what we just did, I'm going to say you owe me at least that much of a favor.”

 

Bro didn't appear thrilled at being called on that, given it was a mutual moment of lust and the moment had passed for now. But he sighed and walked for James' bedroom door, popping it open and heading into the hall.  
  
“Go make your casserole or whatever. I'm gonna go talk to the kids and see if they're up to a bit of a transformation.”

“Pardon?”

“If you're really as chill as you say you are about the dressin' up and John, about Dave hangin' around him with how over the moon he already is. Then it'd be cool to have a nice dinner together and chill. I gotta get two Cinderfellas ready for the bash.”

“And how is that going to fix everything? Just make him more comfortable? I want him to talk to me again, to trust me. Will he trust me like this?” James asked, ashamed about how his tone had changed, how similar to a clickbait article on empty nesters sounded. His nest wasn't empty just yet, but the practice wasn't that comforting.

“Pretty sure John would need help getting' ready. And I'm more interested in helpin' Dave personally, unless it's somethin' like a ripped seam or tidying up cluttered layers or accessories. If it looks unbalanced or crooked, it's just not that good a look,” he explained nonchalantly. “... Those zippers and all those layers, man. Sometimes a dress just needs a helping hand so they'll look great in it.”

 

\- - - - -

 

“You don't have to do this,” John promised. “I. ..I don't even have to dress up at all if you don't want to, Dave's Bro's kind of a jerk sometimes, he's probably just trying to make you uncomfortable. He's probably up to something.”

 

The way he stood at the far side of his room near his closet door, hesitating and anxious, broke James' heart. Bro was right. He wasn't comfortable here at all with this. And it was all his fault.

 

“.. Son. Listen to me. Really, I don't mind. I'd. .. I'd like to see,” he urged. “I've got a feeling you'd look like your grandma did when she was young.”

“Dad, really though, I mean. ..You don't really like this, do you. You still think it's weird and wrong and you're just tolerating it. I don't want to make you feel weirded out when I could just keep doing what I'm doing out of your spa-”

“John, I've been wearing stockings and a garter belt every day for a little while now, and I'm pretty sure I'll keep wearing them for some time to come. I don't want to go showing them at the office, but I -really- am surprised at how nice it felt and how nice I feel in them,” James blurted in one go. “It was David's brother who got me to try them at all. Bro's suggestion on tonight is because he's been trying to get me to understand and.. I understand, at least part of it. I can't understand all of it, because I don't think it's quite for me personally, but I want to understand -you-.”

John stared like a deer in headlights, mouth open and wobbling like a bass a few times before he stared at the closet door, then back to his father. He crossed the room in a few long legged strides and held him tight around the chest, squeezing a hug as if his life depended on it. James was all too happy to hold his boy close and rest his chin on his shoulder. He used to have to bend in half to get a hug from John, he was so small for so many years, and look at him now all grown like a weed.

 

“.. Thanks Dad. I love you.”

“I love you too, John. Now. That casserole doesn't have too much longer to bake, let's get to work on getting you ready.”

“Sure thing. Think you can manage corset lacing? I've got a piece I want to try wearing, but Dave's fingers aren't strong enough to actually do lacings that well if they're not decorative.”

“John, you're speaking to the man who moved the neighbor's car when they parked half in front of our driveway, then came back inside to get my thermos before work without breaking much of a sweat. I can handle your laces.”

 

\- - - - - -  
  
Dinner was a sight to see that night.

 

On one side was James with his stockings resting visibly beneath the table, toes tucked into a set of soft slippers and otherwise dressed normally. Bro hadn't changed, aside from adding a rather professional looking manicure to his repertoire that matched Dave's, shiny and decked with some kind of astrological symbols in respective colors, with the thumb being a crescent moon.

 

Dave had settled into a dress with a scooped front, crisscrossing straps covering the bit of skin he'd be showing otherwise in another outfit. It had puff sleeves that gathered an inch above his elbows, material matching the dark ribbon that settled at the front of the waist, just below the white buttons that ran up towards the top of the scoop to a crescent moon. It was a far cry from the reds and black and white that he was usually showing off, but somehow the stars and moons and pale blue galaxies on the blue black fabric was appealing with his pale hair. No wig this time, but his hair was styled and held perfectly in place.

He seemed peaceful, really, relaxed. Something between the bliss of dressing up, of being admired and looked at, and just the fact he was doing something previously forbidden.

John was the most happy of all though, outfit simple and understated in monotone colors. The corset work was perfectly laced and settled in place, holding down the white long sleeved bloue with the black piped collar and cuffs, the lovely bow at the throat. A pinstripe skirt finished it off, fluffed and attractive over black stockings.

His makeup was awful, applied with unpracticed hands and eyes, and the wig was crooked and a bit messy. But John was satisfied and happy as a clam. James had no idea what he was doing, and had done his best to help, and there was photographic evidence that was going to be printed out the following day and placed in a frame with many openings for future additions. For now though they sat at the table and made small talk while they all ate, conversation excited and boisterous, more lively than it had been in years.

 

Things weren't perfect yet. Things would never be perfect.

 

But learning was half the fun.

 


End file.
